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Praise for Omena Bay Testament (Winner of the 2021 Two Sylvias Press Wilder Poetry Book Prize):
Gail Griffin finds inspiration from all the corners of life, from the bold headlines to the dark fairytales of childhood. In all of the conversations, lessons, and silences, Griffin finds new questions, moments to celebrate, and a pain that hardens us into something unburnable. These powerful poems hold to the body's latest troubles, the troubles we set down for the last time, and the "bright ferocity of what's left." Rich with revelations of the self and the world, this book offers us a testament of attention as we move into new seasons and new shores. —Traci Brimhall
Gail Griffin’s “Omena Bay Testament” takes us across landscapes of winter and water through the possibility of love and the tragedy of death to a ravishing moment where there is nothing left to want. An accomplished nonfiction writer, Griffin captures the fullness and limitations of being with remarkable depth and tenacity in her debut collection of poetry and prose. I’m cloaked in the invisibility that comes to women at a certain point, she writes, and it is from that place of being off-stage where her narratives—harrowing, nuanced, layered—brilliantly forge a path between past and present, the living and the dead. I can't think of another book that gifts its readers with such a breadth of time and experience. Sweeping and seamless, Griffin shifts between wide and exacting gazes, from poems of quiet interiority to the larger breaking world, especially with her masterful sequence in response to news excerpts. This book is a life; it is a gift of integrity and lasting art. —Jennifer K. Sweeney
Gail Griffin finds inspiration from all the corners of life, from the bold headlines to the dark fairytales of childhood. In all of the conversations, lessons, and silences, Griffin finds new questions, moments to celebrate, and a pain that hardens us into something unburnable. These powerful poems hold to the body's latest troubles, the troubles we set down for the last time, and the "bright ferocity of what's left." Rich with revelations of the self and the world, this book offers us a testament of attention as we move into new seasons and new shores. —Traci Brimhall
Gail Griffin’s “Omena Bay Testament” takes us across landscapes of winter and water through the possibility of love and the tragedy of death to a ravishing moment where there is nothing left to want. An accomplished nonfiction writer, Griffin captures the fullness and limitations of being with remarkable depth and tenacity in her debut collection of poetry and prose. I’m cloaked in the invisibility that comes to women at a certain point, she writes, and it is from that place of being off-stage where her narratives—harrowing, nuanced, layered—brilliantly forge a path between past and present, the living and the dead. I can't think of another book that gifts its readers with such a breadth of time and experience. Sweeping and seamless, Griffin shifts between wide and exacting gazes, from poems of quiet interiority to the larger breaking world, especially with her masterful sequence in response to news excerpts. This book is a life; it is a gift of integrity and lasting art. —Jennifer K. Sweeney
Sample Poem:
Parable of the Mountain Lion
“In Blairsden, a caller reported that she could hear a woman screaming.
A deputy said that it was probably a mountain lion.”
~Portola (CA) Reporter
In Manitou Springs, a paperboy reported that he saw a mountain lion on a rock.
The ranger said it was probably a dog.
In Portland, a bank clerk said her last customer looked just like a bull terrier.
The branch manager said she would probably get fired.
In Okemos, an old woman reported a fire.
The station chief said she was probably crazy.
In Springfield, a girl said she thought she was crazy.
Her mother said it was probably the weather.
In Elmhurst, the minister said God had sent the devastating weather.
The kid in the back row said He was probably drunk.
In Erie, the 7-11 clerk said he saw a truck run over a drunk.
The manager asked if it could have been a Humvee.
In Waycross, the biology teacher said she’d seen a Humvee full of soldiers.
The swim coach said they were probably skinheads.
In Dover, a mailman said there was a houseful of skinheads two streets over.
His customer said they were probably terrorists.
In Davenport, the lawyer said she’d flown home sitting next to a terrorist.
Her husband said he was probably CIA.
In Salinas, a woman said she thought her husband might be CIA.
Her sister said maybe he was psychotic.
In Tempe, an English major said her boyfriend was psychotic.
Her roommate said men are dogs.
In Kingsley, a motel clerk said something had torn up his dog.
The night manager said maybe it was a mountain lion.
In Provo, a ranger said he’d heard a mountain lion the night before.
His wife said it was probably a woman screaming.
Parable of the Mountain Lion
“In Blairsden, a caller reported that she could hear a woman screaming.
A deputy said that it was probably a mountain lion.”
~Portola (CA) Reporter
In Manitou Springs, a paperboy reported that he saw a mountain lion on a rock.
The ranger said it was probably a dog.
In Portland, a bank clerk said her last customer looked just like a bull terrier.
The branch manager said she would probably get fired.
In Okemos, an old woman reported a fire.
The station chief said she was probably crazy.
In Springfield, a girl said she thought she was crazy.
Her mother said it was probably the weather.
In Elmhurst, the minister said God had sent the devastating weather.
The kid in the back row said He was probably drunk.
In Erie, the 7-11 clerk said he saw a truck run over a drunk.
The manager asked if it could have been a Humvee.
In Waycross, the biology teacher said she’d seen a Humvee full of soldiers.
The swim coach said they were probably skinheads.
In Dover, a mailman said there was a houseful of skinheads two streets over.
His customer said they were probably terrorists.
In Davenport, the lawyer said she’d flown home sitting next to a terrorist.
Her husband said he was probably CIA.
In Salinas, a woman said she thought her husband might be CIA.
Her sister said maybe he was psychotic.
In Tempe, an English major said her boyfriend was psychotic.
Her roommate said men are dogs.
In Kingsley, a motel clerk said something had torn up his dog.
The night manager said maybe it was a mountain lion.
In Provo, a ranger said he’d heard a mountain lion the night before.
His wife said it was probably a woman screaming.
